


L’Étranger

by BeveStuscemi



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Asphyxiation, Creampie, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Nihilism, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeveStuscemi/pseuds/BeveStuscemi
Summary: Sometimes dying is the only way to live.





	L’Étranger

**Author's Note:**

> In which the Stranger (you) meets the Shape.

The Stranger had lived in Haddonfield for six months now, a place steeped in old fashioned values and Americana. Every house had a white picket fence and the neighbourhood kids played together in the street, politely smiling and waving at cars that drove by. If any Levittown suburb managed to crawl out of the forties and secure itself in modern day, it took the form of Haddonfield, Illinois. Perhaps it was ‘big city’ pessimism, but the Stranger could never get accustomed to the friendliness of the small town, and at times the people seemed robotically charming which had only increased during the Fall months.

Though the town had never truly emerged from the glory days of the mid-century, there was an undeniable feeling that the town was desperately trying to move on from something, something that they certainly did not wish to disclose to someone like the Stranger. Indeed, any attempt of prying history out of the townspeople only resulted in small chuckles and a soft dismissal of anything awful having happened. Newspaper articles, journals or broadcasts directly referencing Haddonfield were very hard to come by, much to the Stranger’s annoyance. From the early sixties onwards, the small suburb of Haddonfield may as well have disappeared from American records, or at least the records in the local library.

While Haddonfield was cute and artificially charming, it was not a beacon of opportunity. Lack of work drove the Stranger out of the cities to start with and she had relocated to the town hoping to find work amongst a smaller community. How wrong they were. No factories, no corporations, nothing. A high school diploma could get you a paper round. A college degree might get you a shift at a coffee house. The Stranger worked the latter, making pittance an hour for a small house at the end of a street. Cheerful smiles and harmless chatter soon lost its charm and the Stranger soon felt herself loathing Haddonfield and the trap it kept her in. Fall had only encouraged the local friendliness to go into overdrive but on Halloween afternoon, the Stranger listened to hushed voices in the corner of the coffeeshop.

The buzz of the radio drowned out most of the conversation but between giggling and whispers of ‘knock it off!’, the Stranger could just about make out talk of a mysterious entity reappearing tonight.  
“Don’t talk crap!” The higher voice said, presumably female. “The place is boarded up, nobody can get inside.”  
There was a mocking laugh from the boy opposite her. “How do you know? Ever been inside?”  
The Stranger flipped an egg with disinterest. They were likely talking about the house on her block. The neighbour told her it suffered fire damage about a decade ago, leaving it inhospitable and in desperate need of renovation. The Stranger sucked her teeth in frustration. Something did happen in there, but apparently only natives to the small town were allowed to know, lest the ‘big city’ girl ran home and told tales and ruined the façade they tried to portray.  
It appeared that whatever happened in that house must have been pretty awful to stun a whole town into silence. Perhaps it was a death cult that the authorities had to keep under wraps to avoid mass hysteria. The Stranger gave a sarcastic smile and served the egg. The whole damn town was a cult to any outsider.

-

The shift ended at five, giving way to the graveyard shift that the Stranger was unfortunate to miss out on. There was very little commotion after hours though on Halloween this was likely a different case due to the sudden influx of children roaming the streets in various costumes. Antisocial and indifferent, the Stranger would simply return home and darken the house to trick the children into thinking nobody was home. Parents dubbed it ‘harmless fun’, the Stranger called it an annoyance. Younger children were already beginning their pursuit of trick or treating, often accompanied by older siblings too old to partake. The Stranger sighed. Even the teenagers in this town were so nice it hurt. They’d be eaten alive in a city.

The Stranger made the walk back to her house in silence. There shouts of children and steady rhythm of tyres was enough noise for her to deal with. She reached her house and unlocked the front door before stepping inside and locking it again. The house still hadn’t been properly decorated since her arrival and was sporting a very uninteresting shade of beige throughout the entire home. Boring. Drab. Much like Haddonfield. The Stranger retrieved a can of soda from the kitchen and sat in front of the television, slouching on the sofa. Even the soda wasn’t a big brand, the bright red of Coca-Cola likely too bright and stimulating for the colour scheme of the house. The Stranger opened the can and flicked on the remote, letting the sound of the television fill the dead air. It appeared to be a recap of some football game, not that she was interested.

The Stranger took a sip of the drink, eyes semi-focusing on the occasional beads of static that would appear on the screen. She looked at the can through heavy eyes. Was this living? Had hard work and determination really amounted to this? Did she ever aspire to be sitting in the middle of nowhere in Illinois, drinking unbranded soda and watching a sport she didn’t care for? Probably not. Yet, here she was. Nameless, faceless in the midst of probable death cultists and extras from the Brady Bunch. If this was living, she wanted a refund.  
Another swig of cola and the Stranger lay back on the sofa, feet dangling off the arm rest. She’d scuffed the faded brown of the couch but this wasn’t worth fretting about. Nothing was. She closed her eyes and focused on the darkness, hoping that if a demon _was_ coming to destroy Haddonfield, they’d be a little quicker about it.  
She was out in minutes.

-

It was the sound of the remote falling that woke her. She had kicked it off the armrest and it came crashing down onto the wooden floor beneath her. The Stranger opened her eyes and got up from where she lay to look outside her window. The outside world was no longer light but rather dark and seldom lit. A few Jack o’ Lanterns were scattered on porches of neighbouring houses but no children could be seen asking roaming the streets. The Stranger rubbed at her eyes, trying to get accustomed to the blaring screen of the television in the darkness. It sounded like some old horror film, complete with the old Transatlantic accent. She’d been asleep for a while. Inwardly groaning at the total destruction of her sleeping cycle, the Stranger picked up her soda can and walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner. In her half-asleep haze she hadn’t realised the odd chill of the house until she reached the kitchen doorway.  
The backdoor was open.  
She stopped in her tracks, watching as the wooden door swung lightly on its hinges. She calmly walked over and closed it, twisting the lock for good measure. Unusual. She was not the sort of person to leave a door unlocked, let alone open. Had it really been open the whole day? Not that it mattered, Haddonfield wasn’t the type of place to get burglars. The Stranger began to turn away but the creak of the door caught her attention. The backdoor slowly opened again, revealing nothing but darkness. The Stranger’s mouth twitched, her eyebrows furrowed. She took a step forward once more and the chill of the kitchen crawled down her spine.  
The wooden panelling that constructed the doorway was chipped and ruined, the metal lock scratched. A gust of cold wind seeped through the crack of the door and the Stranger stared into the void outside, mind blank.

Sudden, large hands clamped around the Stranger’s neck and her knees buckled beneath her. Before her knees were even halfway to the floor, the woman was lifted upwards, neck straining from exertion as she tried to piece together what was happening. Methodology was futile, but the instinct to survive had not surfaced. The Stranger choked on air, head pushed into the wall and chest starting to tighten from exertion. The man, the thing which was holding her upwards tightened his grip on her neck and realisation finally settled within the Stranger. The Haddonfield demon had finally come to kill her. Adrenaline suddenly began to pump into her veins, the Stranger’s eyes bulging as she stared deep and hard into the thing beneath her, the creature with no eyes and emotionless face. As she felt her windpipe begin to crush under the grip, the Stranger’s mouth curled into a demented smile, not seen in months. She felt alive.

With one set of nails digging into the hand choking her, the other hand reached out to the thing. The hand clutched at a fistful of fabric, mirroring the grip it had on her. The thing didn’t move and the Stranger gasped frantically. Vision was fading, dull banging echoed in her eardrum but the woman couldn’t have been more hyper-aware as to what was going on. Emotions, thoughts and reactions all buried deep in her psyche finally remerged as the urge to stay alive. To live. Her legs kicked outwards, enveloping the assailant in an embrace and the hands around her neck loosened as the angle of the hold shifted. He had the hands of a corpse but beneath the fabric of the overalls he wore, he was warm and breathing and _alive_. The Stranger drank in the air and both her hands dug into the flesh of the man’s face. It was rubber, hot from the shallow breaths he took beneath it. His own fingers spasmed around her throat, his hands debating whether or not to tighten and kill her. The Stranger did not mind. If he killed her, so be it. It was just exhilarating to finally live once more.

He removed his hands and the Stranger fell from her wall, coughing on spittle and clutching a reddening, bruised throat. She shook in front of the man, adrenaline and excitement rushing through her body. The thing stared down at her, eyes hidden under the dark holes of his mask. He roughly pulled her up by the crook of the elbow and pushed her against the wall again, his fingers around her jaw and pressing into her cheeks. The Stranger’s bloodshot eyes focused on him, watching as he calculated his next move. He didn’t think too long.  
A rough hand snaked their way into hair, pulling backwards and exposing the neck he crushed moments ago. He inspected his work, traced a thumb over the purpling marks and trailed it down the curve of her neck and stopping just short of her sternum. He stopped, breathing steady yet heavy as the woman in his grasp swallowed.

Something sharp and metal danced over the Stranger’s shirt. She looked downwards and saw a kitchen knife directly above her rib-cage. Fear caused her to breathe faster but she did not protest, wanting to see how far this thing would take torture before he finally gave into what he wanted. The knife instead cut away buttons on the woman’s shirt, each quick movement exposing more flesh. He dropped the knife and used his freehand to caress the skin now exposed to him, calloused fingers scraping against the curve of her waist and onto the small of her back. The woman gave a shaky breath, eyes closing at the familiar yet foreign touches to her body. She reached out to touch his hand gently but it was caught and thrown back against the wall and the man closed the distance between them so that his body stood taut against hers. His intentions were clear.

The Stranger pushed into the strong figure in front of her, repressing a gasp at the hardness pushed against her thigh. The man noticed her willingness and removed his hand from her hair. His hands dropped to the lower buttons of his overalls and with trance-like movement he removed his cock from the fabric that protected it. He stood there in front of the Stranger, his breathing echoing beneath the rubber mask. One hand holding the thick flesh, the other grabbed the nape of the Stranger’s neck and she dropped to her knees in the same trance-like fashion as the previous. Her hands curled around the fabric that gathered behind his knees and she took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could fit. Large but not necessarily uncomfortable, the Stranger hollowed her cheeks and sucked on the man’s cock. He gave a deep, husky sigh and his hand pushed on the woman’s head, urging her to suck more. She obliged with a low hum and took in more of his cock, trying not to choke as the tip neared the back of her throat. She pulled off slightly, her tongue now licking the underside of his cock. The man hardened in response and slammed the woman down with such ferocity she nearly choked. Tears welled in her eyes and she moved backward, almost smiling in weird exuberance she felt. She continued to suck, every so often looking up in the hopes of seeing anything but the stoic expression of the mask staring down at her. The mask remained on but the man became more vocal in his pleasure, breathing heavier and more frantically as he reached his peak. The woman only sucked harder to encourage him but when she felt him twitch in preparation for orgasm, he pulled out of her mouth in a swift backstep.

The woman wiped at the drool that formed at her mouth, dabbed at the tears that formed in the duct of her eyes. The man shoved her backwards so that her back hit the tiled floor of the kitchen. Still hard, he fumbled with the zipper of her jeans before eventually losing patience and tearing the damn things open. She should have complained or objected but driven by this new-found lust, she would have let him do anything. Underwear quickly followed and the man threw her legs above him and she kicked off her bottom set of clothing to help accommodate him.

He lined himself up with the Stranger’s cunt, momentarily dragging his cock against her, teasing her more so than himself. He pushed inside her and she gave a surprised moan of pleasure. The man gave a guttural groan and he grabbed her waist to support himself as he gave a sloppy jerk of his hips. The woman gasped, reaching out for something, _anything_ to hold. She was rewarded with his hands around her throat once more. She couldn’t have asked for better.  
The man began to fall into a rough tempo, punctuating his thrusts with a throaty moan and grabbing at his partner more painfully. Still weak from the previous chokehold, the Stranger could feel her chest tightening much more quickly and coupled with the feeling of a large cock rubbing against her in all the correct, sensitive places felt amazing. As unpractised and awkward as the man’s fucking was, size and intensity more than made up for it. He began to thrust more quickly, hands slick from the sweat that formed on his arms. The scent of sweat and latex rubber was like an aphrodisiac in the cold Fall air with both parties acting on primal instinct. The woman attempted to roll her hips to match the rhythm but the man pinned her down with so much force that she remained immobile.

Her vision started to fade. The man above her showed little interest in her health or pleasure and simply continued his crusade of hard fucking. His thrusts grew more erratic, breathing shallow and fast. Blunt nails scratched at the skin on her hip hard enough to draw small streaks of blood and the dull pain only accentuated the wrong pleasure coursing through the Stranger. He hit deeper and more frequently, any rhythm disregarded as he fucked her into the ground in the pursuit of finishing. Within seconds, the hand clutching the woman’s throat relented and gripped onto her hip. A sudden intake of air was all the Stranger could do before the man slammed into her one final time before emptying himself in the base of her cunt. The man steadied himself above her, forearms quaking in the intensity of his orgasm. The man looked as though he’d broke for a split-second. Unmoving and strangely quiet, processing everything. The woman stroked the mask with one of her fingers, playing with the indent of nasolabial crease of the latex rubber. The man did not react. He pulled out of her slowly, savouring the soft clenching of vaginal walls against his now semi-hard cock. The man stood up and it was only now that she realised how tall he actually was.

The Stranger watched in fascination as he buttoned up his overalls with the same robotic precision as before. He was clearly uniformed in the subject of sex hence his rough, irregular performance. He passed the woman still reeling in the aftermath of the sexual encounter and picked up his knife that had fell to the floor. The two regarded each other for a brief moment though both in completely different ways. The man looked at his knife and back to the woman with a dark indifference. The woman’s breath hitched as she watched him tower over her with nihilistic impassiveness.  
A second passed. Maybe two.  
The man stepped over her and made his way into the living room before disappearing out of sight entirely. She only let out her shaky breath when she heard the front door close with a small click.

For the first time since living in Haddonfield, the Stranger was happy to be alive.


End file.
